The Darkness Within
by SandraD
Summary: Slash, MPreg What if the Malfoys' hatred for Harry was fed, not by the accidental destruction of Voldemort all those years ago, but by a love affair gone sour before Harry was even born?
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter sighed as he lowered his head to his pillow. He wasn't particularly tired but the day was over and the normal thing to do now was to sleep. It was the same every night. Just as each day was the same as the one before.  
  
He would awaken to a knock on the door and the stilted voice of Aunt Petunia informing him that breakfast would be ready shortly. The boy would rise and perform his morning ablutions before joining his only remaining family members for eggs, bacon, toast, juice and milk. Once he was done eating, Harry would clean up the kitchen before he was told and then return to his room to study.  
  
Thanks to the threat from Mad Eye Moody, Uncle Vernon no longer forbid the raven-haired boy from completing his summer assignments. In fact, the portly man had apparently decided that the best solution would be to ignore his wife's nephew altogether. It was an arrangement that allowed a semblance of peace to fall over number four Privet Drive.  
  
The other big change that summer was Dudley Dursley's attitude toward Harry. In the past, their relationship had shifted between antagonistic and fearful. First Dudley being the bully and Harry fearing him every day. Then, after Harry began to attend Hogwarts, their roles had almost completely reversed. Although the young wizard never physically attacked his cousin, he often teased him and pretended to cast spells at the bigger boy.  
  
Now, however, Dudley looked at his cousin with nothing less than awe in his eyes. It seemed as though his experience with the Dementors the previous summer had vastly changed his opinion of Harry and magic. This fact, of course, irked his parents to no end but they had never reprimanded the boy before and they weren't likely to start now.  
  
Not that any of these changes fazed the bespectacled youth much. Harry would spend each morning working on his homework and each afternoon tending his Aunt's garden. It was another task that was not requested of him but he'd found that the mindless effort was perfect for letting him drift away from the memories of the battle in the Department of Mysteries.  
  
After supper, Harry would shower before returning to his bedroom once again. His evenings were when he would relive every moment he'd spent with his godfather. . . including the moment of Sirius Black's death. He missed the escaped convict more than ever knowing that, in the past, he could write to Sirius and seek advice for his worries and woes. Now that the man was dead, and consequently the source of Harry's thoughts, that option was no longer available to him.  
  
The last Potter's thoughts would range from wishing he had followed Sirius through the veil (even knowing that it would have meant his own death) to sheer rage at himself and the one other 'light' wizard he held personally responsible for the demise of his godfather. Of course, no one would fault him for placing blame on Severus Snape but the boy's hatred and anger toward the spy had all but disappeared after a mere week of solitude.  
  
No, his anger was directed at one Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. In Harry's mind, the ancient wizard had become as heinous as Voldemort himself. Not only had he withheld the prophesy from Harry, but he had also failed to explain the importance of the enforced Occlumency lessons. The old man had shifted quite suddenly from the kind and wise grandfather figure The Boy Who Lived looked up to for five years into a lying, manipulative coward who was willing to use anyone to achieve his goals. Quite frankly, Harry was convinced that he was not the first boy to convince the Sorting Hat away from its original choice.  
  
It was these thoughts that filled Harry's mind for hours every night. It was only when he heard his Aunt and Uncle close their bedroom door for the night that he'd rouse himself enough to climb into bed and force his mind to clear before drifting off to sleep. Although he was no longer receiving Occlumency lessons from Snape, the boy diligently recalled what he had learned the previous year and practiced every night.  
  
*******************  
  
Harry opened his window to admit the owls waiting to enter. Try as he might, he could not call up the happiness he knew he should feel that his friends had sent him gifts for his birthday. It wasn't that he had grown so used to it that he no longer appreciated their kindness. The problem was more that it was becoming increasingly difficult to feel anything positive at all.  
  
Half the summer was gone and Harry had spoken fewer than five words to anyone at any given time. In fact, it had been more than a week since he'd spoken at all. With the depression and rage flowing freely through him, he rarely felt he'd be able to control his words if he did speak. So he remained silent. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't still sending the obligatory letters to the Order to ensure that he was okay. But if they were concerned that those letters contained little more than 'All is well here', they never mentioned it.  
  
After relieving the owls of their burdens, Harry offered each of them food and water before sending them on their way. Sitting down at his dilapidated desk, he opened the gifts and made sure to write out thank you notes to send when Hedwig returned from her recent excursion. She'd been gone for several days already and Harry was mildly surprised that she had not returned yet. He'd figured the snowy owl had gone out to find Hermione so she'd be able to get her birthday present to Harry but Pig had delivered that along with Ron's gift. Apparently they were spending the summer together again.  
  
Turning off the table lamp, Harry made his way to bed once more already beginning the process of clearing his thoughts. He figured this was either finally working or Voldemort had decided to lay off torturing the boy until a later time.  
  
Moments before The Boy Who Lived actually drifted off to sleep, there came an insistent tapping on the windowpane. Immediately all efforts to blank his mind were destroyed and Harry swore under his breath at the interruption. He stumbled across the room and peered through his shabby curtains to see Hedwig awaiting him. Quickly opening the window, he stood aside as the owl swooped into the room and dropped a tattered envelope on the desk on her way to her food and water dishes.  
  
Harry gaped as he watched the bird eat and drink as if she hadn't in the last week. Ignoring the letter for the moment, he walked quietly to Hedwig's perch and checked her over for injuries.  
  
"He-Hedwig, where have you been?" His voice was low and scratchy from lack of use. Harry hadn't been worried until then. He wasn't sure what to think. Had she been attacked? Hadn't she stopped once to even catch her meal and have a drink? "Are you okay, girl?"  
  
The search for injuries produced nothing. It appeared she was just exhausted and undernourished. A soft, affectionate hoot and a light nip on his finger informed Harry that his pet was indeed alright. He smoothed her feathers with a gentle touch one more time before looking at the curiously mangled letter on his desk. He flipped his light on once more and sat down to find out what had been so important that Hedwig had rushed it to him.  
  
Unsurprisingly, there was a half-destroyed letter inside.  
  
To My Dear Son,  
  
You are a week old as I write this letter to you, Harry. I can see you sleeping soundly across the room in your cradle. You, my son, are the dearest thing that has ever happened to me and I shall cherish you always. No father could be prouder.  
  
At this, Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. 'How?'  
  
I am sure you are wondering why I am writing this letter and why I have waited until your sixteenth birthday to give it to you. My reasoning is quite simple, really. All my thoughts and feelings are currently fresh and I feel the need to express them before it all fades away. If I were to wait for you to reach the age you are now, I'd likely forget the intensity of my own emotions. I also have a reason that this is delivered to you before you sleep tonight. If I cast the charm right, this letter has reached you after midnight on the morning of your sixteenth birthday. You'll have to let me know in the morning if I was successful. Of course, I suppose I'll know of my success or failure upon your reactions tomorrow.  
  
I cannot even begin to imagine how our lives have turned out. I figure we are still living at Godric's Hollow as it is my family home. You will be starting your sixth year at Hogwarts and hopefully a Gryffindor prefect. Of course, if you're not a prefect, I'll understand perfectly. You may be too much like your old man and the Marauders to have even been considered for such a position. I still can't figure out how Moony managed to achieve it!  
  
But I digress. These are not the things I so wanted to share with you tonight, Harry. Perhaps, though, you will allow me to read this in the morning so I can have a laugh at my sixteen-year-old letter.  
  
Harry wiped the tears from his eyes. He so wished he could share this with his father.  
  
When you wake up in the morning, you will find that your appearance will have changed somewhat dramatically. The reason for this, I am sure I have already explained a bit, is that the glamour we have placed on you will have completely vanished and you will finally regain the features with which you were born.  
  
'What?!'  
  
I imagine that I have told you a bit about your birth but, because of the war and my position in it, I have been advised not to give you all the details until you are older and, hopefully, Voldemort is dead.  
  
You should know by now that Lily Potter is not your mother and that we wed more out of necessity than anything else.  
  
'Oh, Merlin! This can't be right!' Harry was nearly hyperventilating as he read the words that had supposedly been written by his father. This couldn't be true! He had his mother's eyes! It was her love that saved him that night at Godric's Hollow! Harry was forced to live with relatives that hated him because he was connected to them by his mother's blood! The blood that was supposed to be protecting him from Voldemort!  
  
Harry was convinced, now, that this was a farce. Unfortunately, his curiosity won out as usual and he knew he had to continue reading.  
  
Now, however, it is time for you to learn the details. In truth, my dear Harry, you do not actually have a mother. As I am sure we (the Marauders and I) explained to you when you were younger, it is possible for two wizards to conceive a child when they are truly in love and at least one of them wants to have a baby. Now, keep in mind that the desire for a wizard to have a baby is not always a conscious desire. So, while you do not have a mother, you do have two fathers who once loved each other more than life itself.  
  
The green-eyed boy was amazed that he was able to keep his laughter quiet enough that he didn't wake his relatives. He'd never heard such a crazy thing. Whoever had written this letter, he was sure, had quite a comedic imagination. Surely they didn't think he'd actually believe all this!  
  
It was with a smirk on his face that Harry decided to finish reading what was still legible on the parchment.  
  
Your other father and I met while at Hogwarts. He was, and probably still is, a beautiful man. Outwardly, he was a cold-hearted bastard whom most could not stand to be near. Behind closed doors, however, he was warm and loving. Truly the gentlest human being I have ever met.  
  
We were together for four years before you were conceived. I would have stopped the spinning of the earth for your father if he'd asked me to. He felt the same toward me. We found, unfortunately, that there was one thing that could tear us apart.  
  
We found out that upon his birth, he was betrothed to a woman from a family close to his own. His parents had apparently decided to not risk the possibility of him falling in love with someone of impure blood. The contract they created between the two families was unbreakable. He was forced to marry another during the Christmas season of 1979.  
  
Neither of us was aware of this contract prior to that time. We had been meeting in secret for years and had intentions of informing our families that Christmas. We wanted to be married. We wanted to be together forever. It was Christmas Eve that I received an owl from him telling me that we were through. He did tell me why and that he was truly miserable about it. And as much as I hated it, I understood. When you've been raised in a pureblood family, as you are fully aware, there are some requirements of the heirs. This, most unfortunately, was one of his requirements.  
  
Because he was away on his honeymoon when I learned that I was pregnant, I was unable to tell him the news. In my heart, though he is wed to another and expected to produce an heir with her, I know that he would love you.  
  
However, since he was not around, I went to a man I trust as if he were my own father and asked for guidance. It was decided that I would marry Lily. We were both in the Order at that point and worked well together. I do love her and I know that she loves me. It is, though, the love a brother and a sister might share. Believe me when I tell you, Harry, that that was an accomplishment! The rows we had while at Hogwarts were legendary.  
  
Anyway, glamours were placed on us both. One to hide my growing belly and one to give Lily the appearance of a developing pregnancy. I was told we should hide the truth from everyone because your father was from and had married into a dark family. He'd had no intentions of following Voldemort but I fear I have pushed him in that direction.  
  
You see, son, when he returned from his honeymoon, he learned that I had wed during his absence. He also learned Lily and I were expecting a baby by the beginning of August 1980. Anyone could figure out easily that the baby had been conceived no later than November of the previous year.  
  
I still mourn that he thinks I betrayed him by sleeping with Lily while he and I were still together. My wife is kind and allows me to weep on her shoulder at night. I have gone to my advisor many times in the past few months to beg him to allow me to tell your father the truth. Until this summer it seemed as though he would finally concede. Although he will not tell me why, Albus has insisted that I must not, under any circumstances allow the truth of your parentage to come out before the war is over.  
  
Harry glared at the rest of the parchment. Not another word could be read. While he still didn't believe what had been written, he did wish that he could read the rest. He still didn't know where the letter came from or why it was so mangled. And he was extremely curious who would have been named as his father.  
  
With a chuckle at that last thought, Harry turned the light off again and climbed back into bed.  
  
********************  
  
Harry opened his eyes at the sound of his Aunt Petunia knocking on his bedroom door. His eyes watered when the bright sun pouring into the room hit his face as he sat up. Groaning inwardly, Harry cursed himself for staying up so late. Then he cursed the idiot that had sent that wretched letter.  
  
The boy stood up and stretched his aching joints wishing that he could use some of his own funds to buy a new mattress for his bed. He knew, though, that if he admitted to having that kind of money the tentative peace between him and his relatives would fly out the window. Shrugging off the thought and grabbing his clothes and glasses, Harry made his way to the bathroom.  
  
Knowing he must look a fright after so little sleep, the boy splashed cold water onto his face and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes before brushing his teeth. When he finally stood up straight and put his glasses on, the sight that greeted him in the mirror was not what should have been there.  
  
Gone were his black hair and bright green eyes. In their place were characteristics he had seen too many times before on two people he hated almost as much as Voldemort. In fact, they were physical traits he would have been grateful to never see again. And now they were his.  
  
Shaking his head in denial, Harry watched familiar silver-blue eyes well up with tears and white blonde hair frame his face as he recalled, again, the letter containing his father's words.  
  
'. . . the glamour we have placed on you will have completely vanished and you will finally regain the features with which you were born.'  
  
He, of course, had no doubt now that his father had indeed written the letter. The letter he'd been laughing about a few short hours ago. Tears streaked his face at the loss of Lily Potter as his mother. A sob caught in his throat at the thought of having a living family that were not the Dursleys. He dropped to his knees and nearly retched at the hatred that family felt toward him knowing that it was beyond how even the Dursleys despised him.  
  
And then he remembered more that his father had written.  
  
'. . . Albus has insisted that I must not, under any circumstances allow the truth of your parentage to come out before the war is over.'  
  
Abruptly, the tears stopped and the shaking subsided. They were simultaneously replaced with a burning rage like he had never felt before. Only one thought lived in his mind at that moment.  
  
'Albus Dumbledore will die!'  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! I'd like to thank all of you that have responded so well to the beginning of this fic. It is going to be a long one so get comfortable. I will try to continue posting regularly but, as you all know, writers can't always control their muses.  
  
This chapter doesn't seem quite as dark as the last but 'real life' means fluctuating moods. So this fic will have a lot of ups and downs. Let me know if the roller coaster gets too bumpy, though.  
  
For those requesting more 'Fate, Love and Parenthood', please be patient. I am desperately trying to get the next chapter finished.  
  
Part 2  
  
Harry gathered his wits about him and made his way back to his bedroom. Glad that he had not impulsively destroyed the letter, he pulled it out once more to read it again. Just as he finished a thought occurred to him.  
  
He had resumed his subscription to the Daily Profit earlier that summer and one issue in particular had originally caused him no small amount of distress. Now, however, the news acted as a balm upon the impotent rage coursing though him. Lucius Malfoy had been released from Azkaban only one week ago.  
  
Harry was sure that the man, by now, had recovered from his short stay at the wizarding prison. He only wondered what the aristocrat's reaction would be at receiving a letter from The Boy Who Lived. Shrugging off the likelihood that he would be thoroughly rebuffed, Harry settled at his desk with parchment, quill and ink to compose his first letter to his father.  
  
While Harry scratched away on the paper, a tentative knock sounded at the door to his room. Grunting shortly at the disturbance, he stood and opened the door to reveal his cousin. 'No. . . not my cousin. No relation at all, even.' He snorted in amusement at that thought. 'Wait till Petunia and Vernon find out they've been had!'  
  
"What do you want, Dudley," he said to the rotund boy. "I'm busy and I really don't feel like telling you any more about my school."  
  
"S-sorry for disturbing you, Ha-Harry," Dudley stammered. "Mum just wanted me to te-tell you that breakfast is ready. Do y-you want me to bring you up a plate? I don't mind. Really!"  
  
Harry closed his eyes briefly and begged the gods for patience. "No thanks. I'll be down in a few minutes. You go ahead and start without me."  
  
"S-sure, Harry! I'll be sure to save you some extra bacon, alright?" With that, Dudley Dursley raced back downstairs as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
The young wizard sighed as he closed the door and sat back down. Quickly, he finished his letter and sealed it, along with his Dad's, in an envelope.  
  
"Hedwig, are you well enough to deliver this for me?" he asked his faithful pet. "Have you recuperated enough?"  
  
The snowy owl hooted indignantly as if to say 'of course I have you silly boy!' and hopped off her perch and stuck out her leg for the letter.  
  
Harry watched her soar off into the morning sky with a small smile on is face. However, unlike in past years, it was not a smile of joy or happiness. In fact, if anyone who knew him had seen The Boy Who Lived at that moment, they would have shivered in anticipatory fright.  
  
******************  
  
Lucius Malfoy lazily sipped his tea before resting on the bedside table. He'd spent most of the last week in bed in order to rebuild his strength after his month-long stay in Azkaban. Thankful that he had not been there longer, he sighed as the memories he'd been forced to relive resurfaced in his mind.  
  
The Malfoy patriarch had worked very hard all those years ago to suppress the pain of betrayal and the Dementors had reveled in bringing it all back to the surface. He'd known long before now what his reaction to the soulless monsters would be but as hard as it had been to be forced to think only of the end of their relationship, Lucius was almost glad that it now enabled him to remember the four years before his world had crumbled around him.  
  
The blonde recalled the look of utter rapture in those beautiful hazel eyes as they'd made love under the stars by the lake shortly before their graduation from Hogwarts. He thought of the smooth skin his fingers had caressed in this very bed while his parents were away one night the summer before their sixth year. Lucius smiled briefly at that memory. It had been the first time they had spent the entire night in each other's arms.  
  
The wizard was interrupted from his musings by the sound of a post owl flying through his bedroom window and landing next to him atop the duvet. Curious as to the late arrival, Lucius ran a manicured hand over the bird's head.  
  
"You're no ordinary post owl are you? No, you are much to lovely for that menial job," he murmured to the snowy owl. At the sight of her proudly ruffling her feathers, Lucius laughed. "Yes, you are most definitely someone's devoted friend. Well. . . let's see what you have for me."  
  
Carefully removing the letter from the owl, the blonde motioned toward a perch and water dish on the other side of the room. As soon as she was free of her burden, the bird flew over and drank gratefully.  
  
Having deftly plucked the pages of parchment from the envelope, the eldest Malfoy arched a delicate eyebrow at the condition of half of the letter. Correctly guessing the neatly folded page would hold an explanation, Lucius opened it and began to read.  
  
Dear Mr. Malfoy,  
  
No doubt, I am the last person in the world that you would expect or want to hear from. . .and for good reason. However, as your eyes scan down to the bottom of this page and see my name, I must beg you to withhold your initial reaction and continue to read what I have to say.  
  
At this, Lucius was already glancing toward the end to learn the identity of the sender. When he saw the name 'Harry Potter', the man nearly lost control. Here was a missive from the one person he hated above all others. He was about to grab his wand to cast a well-aimed incendio on the parchment but at the last moment refrained.  
  
The thought occurred to him that there might be something held within that could be brought to the Dark Lord's attention. Any little bit of knowledge that could help bring the insolent whelp to his doom would be rewarded greatly.  
  
With that in mind, Lucius buried, once more, the grief and humiliation the mere mention of the boy brought forth and continued to read.  
  
Last night, before I went to sleep, my owl returned from a weeklong flight with a letter charmed to be delivered the night before my sixteenth birthday. The envelope had been severely damaged along with the letter it contained.  
  
The information within was, to say the very least, quite a shock. Once you read it (as I have enclosed it) you will understand my reason from writing to you today. To be honest, until this morning I thought it was some great hoax. Not being raised in a wizarding home, I was unaware that what it suggested was even possible. I actually laughed at the whole thing and wondered who thought I'd be stupid enough to believe what was written. The validity was right in front of me as, moments ago, I stood before a mirror.  
  
At this point I am sure you feel you are wasting your time as I have told you nothing of true consequence. My reason for this is to let the other page speak for itself. The words it holds has freed me from a sixteen-year- old lie. I have faith that it will do the same for you.  
  
Once you have read it, please send back a reply with Hedwig. I would like to meet with you as soon as possible.  
  
Yours, Harry Potter  
  
Lucius snort in disgust at the word 'Yours'. He was impressed, however, that nothing the boy had written could be used against him in any way. Everything he'd read, so far, was common knowledge to the entire wizarding world. He hoped that the damaged page held something useful, though. If not, he surely will have only wasted his time.  
  
Dropping the note from Potter, the blonde picked up the other piece of parchment and carefully unfolded it. He had only to see the salutation to know who had written it. As many years that had passed, Lucius still remembered what his dead ex-lover's handwriting looked like.  
  
Not really wanting to see James' confession of an illicit affair to his son, Lucius forced himself to read.  
  
When he'd finished, his thoughts were, unsurprisingly, similar to Harry's earlier that morning. Lucius Malfoy would make sure that Dumbledore paid for his transgressions.  
  
********************  
  
Harry had just finished repacking his trunk when Hedwig returned. He was anxious to leave the prison of his youth and fully intended to be gone within the next few minutes. Sitting down on his bed and running a hand through his newly blonde hair, Harry removed Lucius' reply and began to read.  
  
Harry,  
  
You were correct that your letter was received with no small amount of irritation. My first thought was to burn it to ash immediately. However, your plea for me to read its contents and, admittedly, the possibility of using your words to further Lord Voldemort's cause managed to stay my hand.  
  
Now, for the first time in my memory, I find myself at a loss for words. To have been able to read the words written by James was a gift for which I am truly grateful. To learn that he did not betray me, as I have believed these many years, has caused a veritable shock to my heart. To know that our love was strong enough to produce a child together brought a regretful smile to my lips.  
  
My shame, Harry, is that I have allowed myself to become exactly what Dumbledore assumed I already was merely because of that assumption. I should not have been so blinded in my fury. I should have gone to your Father and demanded the truth. I actually might have, had I known the truth was not as it seemed. Dumbledore, however, did an excellent job in his deception.  
  
Know this. . . I loved your Father with everything I was, Harry. And while you and I have only shared animosity in the past, I find myself longing to know the son created out of the only love I have ever known. Please give me that chance.  
  
I will, of course, meet with you. To keep from ending up on the front page of the Daily Prophet, I suggest we convene in a private setting. I will be at the Leaky Cauldron in room twenty-seven this evening at 8pm. When you arrive, please come straight to my door. The longer you are in public, the longer you are in danger. Both from Voldemort and from Dumbledore.  
  
I look forward to seeing you.  
  
Your Father,  
  
Lucius Malfoy  
  
Harry felt, for the first time in over a month, the beginnings of a true smile upon his face. Perhaps the future was not as grim as he had once imagined.  
  
After pocketing the letter, Harry dragged his trunk out of the room and down the stairs. It was time to say his good-byes to the Dursleys. As many times as he had imagined leaving this house forever, now that the day had come, the young wizard found himself a little nervous.  
  
He knew the truth of Dumbledore's betrayal would be met with more ire than he had ever witnessed from the family. The old man had caused more harm to all the members of this household than should have been allowed. The Dursleys should never have had a wizard in their home. They should never have been forced to live in fear as they had. While Harry knew there was never anything for them to be afraid of, they had not seen it that way.  
  
Harry left his belongings by the front door and strode confidently into the living room where Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had joined to watch late afternoon television. Stepping directly in front of the television, the boy ensured that he had captured their attention.  
  
Vernon, who had ignored Harry from the moment he'd stepped through the door when the summer began, immediately made to get up and leave the room. The man had no intention of even reprimanding Harry for interrupting his time with his wife and son.  
  
Harry, however, caring not what the Ministry's regulations stated about the use of magic by an underage wizard anymore, waved his hand lazily and smirked as the room's only door slammed shut. He'd already made his choice regarding his future and it did not include Hogwarts at all. Besides. . . Harry was sure he'd be gone before the letter even arrived informing him of the impending inquiry.  
  
"Sit down, Vernon," he said with no humor in his voice. "I need to speak with you and your family."  
  
Finally breaking his resolve to pretend the boy didn't exist, the portly man became red-faced in his anger.  
  
"Now you listen here, you freak," he snarled as he stalked toward Harry. "I may have to accept your presence in my home but I will NOT tolerate any- "  
  
Whatever he was about to say was lost as Harry cast a silencing spell on the man. By now, Petunia was near frantic but refrained from verbally attacking him, as was her habit. Dudley, though, appeared to be delighted that he was witnessing magic. No longer did he run and hide or cover his rear in fright. Currently, he was bouncing on the couch in excitement. Harry had to force himself not to laugh at the sight of Petunia as she was almost pitched off the sofa because of her son.  
  
"Pardon the interruption please, but there is something that I must say and it is imperative that I have a moment of your time," Harry began. "First of all, I'd like to apologize to you all. Not for my own actions, as I have never done anything against you intentionally, but for a lie that was told to you years ago.  
  
"You took in a child that had been left on your door step with nothing more than a note. And while you never made me feel welcome in your home, I am grateful to have been provided with food, shelter and clothing. I am fully aware that it would not have hurt your precious bank account to have made me a bit more comfortable but comfort is not what was requested of you when you took me in.  
  
"It has been brought to my attention, just this morning, that we never should have come into each other's lives. As I am sure you have noticed, my appearance has changed a bit since last night. I feel it's safe to assume that you chose to ignore the difference as more proof of my freakish nature." Harry smirked at the mute nods from Vernon and Petunia and the rigorous denial from Dudley.  
  
"You should know that I am leaving this house as soon as I have finished speaking to you and will only return should you request it. But it is important that you know the truth before I leave.  
  
"Petunia," Harry focused his attention solely on the woman he had called 'Aunt' for fifteen years. "Lily Evans Potter never had any children. She married my father as a favor to Albus Dumbledore to facilitate a scheme to hide my true parentage. I will not tell you the details behind it since I know you truly couldn't care less and I don't feel it is any of your concern.  
  
"But when your sister and my father died, instead of coming clean or hiding me in the wizarding world, Dumbledore continued with the story and left me with you. He has claimed, since that night, that this was necessary as it was supposedly my blood connection to you that has kept me safe from those that would kill me. I have not yet found out what is truly the source of that protection but it obviously was not through blood relation.  
  
"I would like to apologize to you for his duplicitous actions and assure you that you will be duly compensated for your troubles. As I said, I will be leaving in a few moments. I, however, will leave you with a choice. Either I will make sure you are repaid monetarily or I will make arrangements to provide a charm that will wipe your memories of my existence.  
  
"Think very carefully on this, all of you. You may have only one option for the entire family. Should you choose the money, you will most likely continue to live with the fear of magic and if the day ever comes that we cross paths on the street, you will wonder if I will acknowledge you as the family I once had. But if you choose the charm, you will be consciously aware that a fully trained wizard will be allowed to erase a large portion of your past. Every detail that once included me would be altered so that it was like I was never here."  
  
Harry checked his watched and nodded to himself. He needed to get going.  
  
"The choice is yours. In my room, you will find two slips of paper. On one is the word money. On the other, memory. There is also a small tin containing a pinch of powder. When you have decided, bring that corresponding paper downstairs and light a fire in your hearth. Toss that powder in and shout out the name 'Harry Potter Malfoy', then throw in the paper. Your decision will reach me and you will have results within three days."  
  
It was a last second notion to add 'Malfoy' to his instructions but he felt natural in his new identity. Harry knew his Dad would be happy. Taking one last cursory glance around at his surroundings, he cancelled the silencing charm on Vernon and walked out the door. A moment later, the stunned and speechless Dursleys heard the front door close.  
  
Harry Potter was gone.  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3  
  
Harry stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his new casual robes one last time. He'd had time to visit Gringott's and Madam Malkin's when he arrived in Diagon Alley. While it wasn't strictly necessary, the young man wanted to look good when he greeted Lucius Malfoy. True, they had met on several occasions in the past, but this would be the first time as father and son. And Harry was determined to make a decent impression.  
  
Wishing that tamable hair were one of the traits he'd received from the Malfoy line, he ran his fingers through his unruly blonde locks once more before giving it up as a lost cause. He was happy enough that, with his changed appearance, he was virtually unrecognizable in public. He'd kept most of his Dad's facial features and need for glasses, but with the ice blue eyes and blonde hair no one had given him a second glance. He'd had to be careful to keep his scar hidden but that almost came naturally after so many years.  
  
Stepping out of the dressing room, Harry quickly paid the shop matron, collected the parcel containing several new robes, and headed back up the Alley. He only had a few minutes before he was due at the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
****************  
  
Lucius Malfoy paced the length of his room for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was more nervous than he would have thought possible. Here he was, a forty-one year old man, meeting his sixteen-year-old son for the first time. He waved off the incongruous thought that he'd already met Harry.  
  
The blonde aristocrat had an idea that would help the boy, but he worried that Harry might not agree. He had no idea what his son's intentions were but hoped that his advice would be welcomed. Lucius feared the idea of sending him back into the clutches of that bastard at Hogwarts but he knew that Voldemort would destroy the boy if he were to remain unprotected. And the damned mark burned into his arm prevented him from using his own magic to shield Harry. His idea, however, would solve both problems easily.  
  
About to traverse the room yet again, Lucius was stopped by a knock at the door. Glancing at his pocket watch, he realized that it was finally 8 o'clock. Schooling his features to hide his anxiousness, he stepped forward and opened the door.  
  
Had he not trained himself to suppress outward reactions, Lucius Malfoy's jaw would have dropped at the sight before him. As it was, his eyes merely widened a fraction at the apparent changes in the boy. There stood Harry Potter. The face was unmistakable, as was the scar peeking out from behind his fringe. But no one who did not have intimate knowledge of that face would have realized who the boy was.  
  
Finally breaking out of his shocked stupor, Lucius opened the door farther and allowed Harry access into the room. After firmly shutting and locking the door, the man led his newfound son to the sofa where they sat in front of an unlit fireplace.  
  
Harry fidgeted nervously as he sat and faced his Father. He'd seen the man's outward reaction to his change in appearance and had smirked inwardly. Now all humor was gone and he found himself almost in shock. The day had been a whirlwind and everything was finally catching up with him.  
  
Seeing the turmoil in Harry's eyes, Lucius moved closer to the boy and tentatively placed an arm around him. He could feel his son shaking but he didn't have a clue as to how to stop it.  
  
"Harry, talk to me, "Lucius whispered. "I know this must be hard for you. It is for me as well."  
  
Harry was surprised at the sincerity in the older wizard's words. He knew Lucius was just as shocked as he. He wanted to talk to this man. A man he'd hated until that morning. A man he knew had hated him. Now here they were, in an awkward embrace as father and son. The irony struck Harry at that moment and he couldn't stop the chuckle that erupted from his lips.  
  
"Do you know," Harry began, "that I have no idea what to call you now? I mean, Mr. Malfoy seems a bit formal and Lucius is too informal. This morning our roles were well defined. One glance in the mirror and that was wiped away. How is it that you are still so calm and collected?"  
  
Lucius raised one elegant brow and smirked. "Just because you do not see a nervous wreck before you does not mean that I am unfazed by all of this. I learned at an early age to hide my emotions from the public eye.  
  
"And as for what you should call me. . . I feel it is best to begin as you intend to carry on. 'Mr. Malfoy' would obviously be inappropriate now. However, 'Lucius' would suffice. I also would not object to 'Father' but ask that you never refer to me as 'Daddy'."  
  
Harry laughed at the look of distaste that showed on the man's face at that request. "Why would any self respecting sixteen-year-old boy still use the word 'Daddy'?"  
  
"Per Narcissa's request, Draco has yet to call me anything else since the day he began talking. And, while I love my Dragon dearly, I abhor the title he has bestowed upon me."  
  
"Sorry, sir," Harry said. He felt like he'd crossed the line and did not want to anger the man. "I didn't mean any disrespect."  
  
"Your apology is appreciated, Harry, but unnecessary. I, too, find it ridiculous that the boy is still happy using such a childish colloquialism."  
  
Harry turned and looked the elder Malfoy in the eyes. He wished the man wasn't so good at hiding his true feelings. Unfortunately, there was no help to be found in those ice-blue orbs. Then a thought occurred to the teen. Should he choose to call the man 'Lucius', there would likely always be a barrier between them. But choosing 'Father' would probably eventually alleviate that barrier and allow them to interact as a true father and son should. And if Harry had learned nothing else from James Potter's letter, he'd learned that his Dad had wanted them to have that relationship.  
  
"Father," Harry acknowledged.  
  
Lucius allowed a smile and responded, "My son."  
  
******************  
  
After a late supper, the two Malfoys sat before the fireplace and began to discuss the betrayal of Albus Dumbledore. Both were of like mind. The man would suffer. Harry had told Lucius the details of the previous five years at Hogwarts and the complete prophecy, as shown to him by the Headmaster, while they ate. The tales he was told stunned Lucius. And with all the details, he was able to show Harry how the doddering old fool manipulated him each time.  
  
Lucius agreed that the death of Sirius Black could have been avoided if Dumbledore had been honest with Harry. It truly seemed as if the old man had intentionally deprived his own Golden Boy of anything resembling affection and love. Could anyone possibly be so cruel to a child? The answer, of course, was obvious.  
  
"As much as I hate to say it, Harry," Lucius said to his son, "the old man was clearly intent on making you dependant upon him alone. Even the growing relationship between you and your Godfather posed a threat to the influence he held over you."  
  
Harry nodded his head in defeated acknowledgement. He was ashamed that he'd allowed himself to be tricked so easily and said as much to his father.  
  
"You must not let yourself feel that way! Dumbledore began his deceit before you were even born. The fact that it was, indeed, you that the prophecy spoke of only made it easier for him to keep the truth hidden for so long. Had you not received that letter from James last night, he would have succeeded in his goals."  
  
"You're probably right, Father. Even with the anger I already held toward him because of his apparent role in Sirius' death, I still would have joined his Order and trained to be his willing pawn against Voldemort." Harry paused for a moment. "I'm am curious about the charm placed on that letter from Dad that compelled Hedwig to seek it out. Where would he have kept it that an owl could have found it?"  
  
"I would imagine he kept it at his family's estate. The charm for timed delivery is fairly simple and would have automatically drawn your owl it enough time for you to receive the missive by your birthday."  
  
"But wasn't Godric's Hollow destroyed when Voldemort attacked?"  
  
"Harry, Godric's Hollow was not the Potter estate-," Lucius paused and chuckled lightly. "It would seem that the old man kept more from you within the realized. The Potter estate, much like the Malfoys', includes a vast amount of land, a manor, staff quarters, stables and all the accoutrements of a wealthy pureblood family. I can only assume that Lilly did not feel comfortable in such a setting, thus leading to the purchase of Godric's Hollow."  
  
Harry sat silently for a few minutes, obviously stunned by this new knowledge. His anger and began to peak once again at the memory of growing up with so very little. It was clear Dumbledore knew about this and yet allowed Harry to live as if he had nothing.  
  
Lucius saw the flames of ire burning in his son's eyes and easily figured out at whom this anger was directed.  
  
"Calm down, child. That old fool can wait. For now we need to focus on your immediate future. I have an idea of where you can go it that will allow you to avoid detection by the Ministry, Dumbledore and Voldemort."  
  
"Will I still be able to train? I know I cannot return Hogwarts, if for no other reason than that I've likely already been expelled for using magic outside of school and in front of muggles. But I still have two years of schooling left and I'm eager to continue my education."  
  
"An old friend of mine then graduated with me from Hogwarts lives in America. I have no doubt that he would be more than happy to teach you all you need to know. I must stress however, that you used extreme caution. The town in which he lives may prove to be more dangerous than any of your previous encounters with Voldemort."  
  
"Are you sure the trust this man, Father?" Harry couldn't help but ask this question; it was no secret that a large portion of Lucius Malfoy's friends was Death Eaters.  
  
"I do understand your concern, Harry, but there is no need for it," Lucius reassured his son. "While he was a Slytherin, he never even considered joining Voldemort. In fact, these days he could easily be called one of the 'good guys'."  
  
Harry nodded his acceptance. "Have you already spoken with him? Will you be there with me? Does he already have other students? What is his name?" He ended his questioning only when the amusement became apparent on his father's face.  
  
Struggling to contain his mirth, Lucius answered each of Harry's questions in turn.  
  
"I have spoken with him already and he is more than happy to open his home to you and to teach you more than what you will be missing at Hogwarts.  
  
"I have decided to accompany you to his home but will need to return within a few days to England.  
  
"Because of his job, he does have a few young people in his charge. You've no need to worry about them, as he is certain they will welcome you into their fold.  
  
"And his name is Rupert Giles."  
  
TBC 


End file.
